


new york is a city

by fairyslush



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Impromptu Adventures, M/M, New York City, late night adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyslush/pseuds/fairyslush
Summary: new york is a city. the city is alive, or so they say.alternatively, doyoung holds hands with a stranger and goes on an adventure.





	new york is a city

**Author's Note:**

> this was published on twitter. there are very minimal changes to the story, but i did expand on a couple of parts. hope you enjoy it still!

 

🌃

new york is a city.

the city is alive, or so they say.

“we’re _explorers,_ ” johnny quips, hand tight around doyoung’s wrist. “the night is young and there is so much to see, so much to do.”

doyoung allows himself to be pulled.

 

* * *

 

there is a _legend_.

legend is a speakeasy; halogen lights hanging from the ceiling, a pristine wooden bar with twisting stools, a menu with an array of cocktails that doyoung could barely pronounce.

he squints, picks off something that sounds good. “a s—saze—”

“a sazerac, _please_ ,” a voice behind him supplies.

doyoung turns, brows furrowed.

“i was doing fine on my own.”

“ _sure_ ,” the stranger quips, grin indecipherable. “took me a while to get it right too, don’t worry.”

doyoung’s brows go from furrowed to quirked.

“is this how you pick-up strangers?” doyoung is blunt, his words unminced. “ _stranger?_ ”

the stranger’s eyes twinkle.

“maybe.”

the stranger takes the empty seat beside him.

“is it your first time here?” he asks. doyoung thinks his eyes shine with honey.

(but it could be the light.)

“yeah, kind of?” doyoung is honest, finds no use in lying. “it’s finals week. my last one just ended, so—”

“you’re here,” the stranger interrupts. “alone?”

the bartender places his drink before him, sweating glass sitting snug on a wooden coaster.

“alone,” doyoung nods at the bartender, eyes the glass with a raised brow. “is that weird?”

“no,” the stranger mirrors his act, gets an understanding nod in return. a usual patron.

the bartender places an identical glass next to his.

“i’d call it _fate_.”

doyoung’s brow raises. curiosity. (maybe ridicule, but only slight.)

“fate?”

in the dimly lit bar, doyoung scoots back, enough to give the stranger a once-over.

he’s _hot_ , for the lack of a better word, dressed in an ensemble meant to give a semblance of cuteness. almost like a boy next door.

emphasis on _almost_. the boys who live next door to doyoung do not look cute. or hot. or go around bars correcting non-locals about their cocktail know-how and pronunciation.

“you don’t look like a guy who believes in fate,” doyoung motions.

the stranger hums. “you don’t look like a guy who spends friday night in a bar. _alone_.”

“touché.”

doyoung punctuates his quip with a sip of his drink, scrunches his nose at the unexpected spice. maybe he should stick to midoris, like he always does.

“i’m johnny, by the way.” the stranger offers, and doyoung wonders when he ever asked. still—

“charlie.” —it’s good to be polite.

the stranger— _johnny—_ chuckles at this, head shaking along with the lilting sound. doyoung contemplates if it’s morally acceptable to throw his drink at this man.

“you’re not from here,” he motions as the laughter dies out, and doyoung almost gets whiplash from the smooth code-switch to fluent korean. _huh_. “what’s your actual name?”

“you’re korean?” doyoung asks, eyes wide with surprise.

“kind of,” johnny shrugs.

he drinks from his own glass, his face making it seem like fruit juice, not alcohol.

“so? your name?”

“ _dongyoung_.” doyoung states, feeling weirdly familiar with the former stranger. “or doyoung. either is fine, but people say that doyoung is easier to pronounce. mostly.”

“ _doyoungie_ ,” johnny croons, and doyoung is surprised that he has no urge to hit the guy for the sudden casual shift. “do people tell you that you look like a bunny?”

“ha-ha,” doyoung takes a lengthy sip of his drink, rolls his eyes for good measure. “how _original._ ”

 

🌉

 

 

one drink turns into three.

from the halogen lights of the dimly-lit bar, doyoung is pulled to the dimmer illumination of the attached toilets, which, he notes, are surprisingly well-kept.

“you do this often?” he teases, fingers tight against the soft fabric of johnny’s sweater, pulling him flush against his retreating form. “you _know_ —correct people’s cocktail orders then go and make out with them into the speakeasy’s toilets?”

johnny smirks, presses a loud, wet kiss on doyoung’s lips.

he earns a toothy grin in return.

“no, not really,” another smooch. “do you?”

doyoung whines against johnny’s lips, waddling backwards so he’s caged between the tiled wall and johnny.

“it’s my first time here, _doofus_.” the insult comes smoothly, but it is meant to be endearing. doyoung makes a point by stealing a quick peck. “you’re just really, _really_ attractive.”

“oh, am i?” johnny braces his hands on either side of doyoung’s head, expression playful as he leans in. doyoung thinks his eyes shine like gold. “i like your honesty, _doyoungie_.”

doyoung wonders if johnny’s lips meet more of his teeth with how much he’s been smiling.

johnny’s a great kisser. whatever he’s been drinking is definitely fruitier than the spice-filled cocktail he’s been drinking, and doyoung can taste it with every swipe of his tongue.

“i thought we got the same drink,” doyoung whines in between liplocks, his hand travelling down the expanse of johnny’s back. his lips never really leave johnny’s.

“we did, then i changed it,” johnny answers, simple; like he’s too eager to keep kissing, too excited to let his lips linger in the air for too long.

the bathroom is small, dimly lit. there are many things that could happen in the tiny stall.

so, doyoung presses closer.

_closer._

“are we just going to kiss?” doyoung asks, eyes half-lidded, tone seductive.

he’s answered with a wet liplock, johnny drinking him in, except _he’s_ the one getting drunk.

“i have _plans_ ,” johnny says, vague, the dim lights making his sharp eyes sinister. doyoung bites his lip, feels goosebumps dot his skin. _excitement_.

“like?” doyoung challenges, rests his arms upon johnny’s shoulders.

the lights flicker once.

then twice.

johnny pulls back, his hands dropping to the small of doyoung’s waist.

“are you up for an adventure?” he asks, fingers drumming a steady rhythm against doyoung’s back.

doyoung pouts, worries his lips between his teeth. his gaze never leaves johnny’s.

“ _again_ ,” doyoung hums, swaying a bit to the side. johnny sways with him. “what kind?”

the lights flicker again, but the proximity allows him to ignore it.

“ _something,_ ” johnny begins, and doyoung sees a hint of a glow in his honey hues. “one of a kind.”

doyoung lets his affirmation be felt in another kiss; loud, wet, and wanting.

 

* * *

 

an adventure, as defined by johnny, begins with scaling the bathroom stall to reach the small opening overhead.

“is this necessary?” doyoung asks. “why can’t we just go out through the door?”

johnny hums, pushes all of doyoung’s weight up with ease.

uncanny.

“taeil wouldn’t notice this way,” he answers, shrug nonchalant. “doors are tricky, you know?”

“who’s taeil?”

 doyoung slides through the tiny opening, calculates his trajectory before he leaps.

“the bartender.” he hears as he slides down the tiny opening, his brain trying to remember.

he doesn’t think it’s a “taeil” written on the bartender’s id.

it started with an m.

or _something_.

he might be drunker than previously thought.

the street behind the speakeasy is damp, his sneakers sticking to the pavement. doyoung feels a chill. he hears no thud, no sound that should logically come from a man that tall sliding from an overhead window and onto the rough cement.

but johnny’s there. johnny is running his fingers through his dark locks as he walks.

doyoung thinks he looks absolutely ethereal.

it’s probably the alcohol.

“so, about that adventure?” doyoung inquires, and he’s answered by a light hand wrapping around his wrist. johnny’s eyes are turned up into little crescents.

doyoung wants to kiss him again.

“that’s up to the city, _bunny_.”

 

* * *

 

new york is a city.

the city is alive, or so they say.

doyoung is not one for poetry, for riddles of any kind, but he thinks he’s getting the hint.

_kind of_.

“did you mean opening hours?” doyoung teases, nudges johnny’s side with his elbow. “it’s almost three in the morning, johnny. where are you even taking me?”

the hand on his wrist moves down to his hand. their fingers intertwine almost naturally.

“ _places_ ,’” johnny answers, vague, but doyoung is too drunk to care or notice. “the city is alive, and the night is till very, _very_ young.”

“tell that to the shop owners who close before midnight,” doyoung whines, kicks a pebble into a storm drain, walks closer to johnny’s form.

the alleyways are dark, but johnny simply walks past them, spares no curious glance.

they stop in front of a building.

a very _familiar_ building.

“really?” doyoung makes a face, squints in utter disbelief. “a _starbucks_?”

“best of it’s kind,” johnny smiles as he pushes the door open. the smell of ground coffee beans, late night existential crisis, and marketable capitalism assaults doyoung’s nose upon entry.

“is this you’re an idea of an adventure?” doyoung asks, far from impressed. “an adventure in late capitalism?”

“no,” johnny assures, but walks towards the counter nonetheless. “but we need energy. the night will be long. order what you want, bunny.”

doyoung squints, scrunches his nose in distaste, but picks off a mocha latte nonetheless.

_venti_. he’s feeling petty. johnny doesn’t seem to mind.

in turn, doyoung chooses to ignore the black card he uses to pay.

“an _americano?_ ” he eyes the drink with a snort. “i swear, i feel like i’m gonna start hearing some indie band’s playlist on some—”

an analog rendition of we are scientist’s _after hours_ begins to play from wherever.

“—outdated speaker.” doyoung finishes, in disbelief at the coincidence. “huh.”

_huh._

johnny’s grin is almost teasing.

“be careful what you say, doyoungie,” johnny sing-songs, his hand back on doyoung’s own as he pulls them both back into the dimly-lit streets. “the city is _listening_.”

 

* * *

 

the city is listening.

doyoung sips on his mocha latte, contemplates on what he has gotten into as the buzz in his head dissipates into clarity.

there's something weird about his companion.

it could be a trick of the light, but he sees three shadows too many on his person.

or it could be paranoia. _whichever_.

the night deepens, and the city streets darken and _darken_ and—

"you're not going to kill me, right?" he asks, not so out of the blue. "i mean, i'm stressed enough to not really care but you _know_ —”

“oh no,” johnny’s tone leaks offense. “that’s not what i do. not at all.” he continues. “contrary to popular belief, i don’t like giving yongie too much work on his plate.”

there’s a low grumble from wherever.

johnny seems to pay it no mind, so doyoung does the same.

“who’s yongie?” doyoung asks. this is the second name johnny has dropped that didn’t registerin his conscious. who was the other one?

_taeil?_

“a _friend_ ,” johnny answers, waves off uncertainty. “ _sorry_. i keep bringing up other people into this conversation—it’s a habit.”

doyoung shrugs.

“i don’t mind,” he motions, taking another sip of his mocha latte. maybe he shouldn't have gotten a venti. "you're a friendly one, huh?"

"so they say," johnny quips, straw wedged between his lips. doyoung finds it cute; the oral fixation. "some might even say too friendly, but i don't think of it as a flaw."

they walk for a couple more blocks.

doyoung feels a lingering dread hanging in the air, but he chooses to ignore it, avoids the darkness of the alleys and the side streets. johnny’s hand is tight against his, and the warmth gives him a tiny bit of peace, a tiny bit of security.

there’s another rumble, like a low, seething growl, but he thinks it’s from the alcohol.

“oh look,” johnny pulls the brakes on his train of thought. “a _merchant._ ”

doyoung looks forward, sees a small tent in the long expanse of empty street.

there is a table inside the tent, and on the table, an array of handcrafted charms.

“ _feng shui_?” doyoung doesn’t bother to check his pronunciation, but the old lady manning the stall seems to pay no heed to his lackluster chinese. “seriously, this really sounds more and more like—”

“the city is _alive_ , my son,” the lady interrupts, and doyoung’s brows furrow in confusion. he’s heard that one way too many times in the span of one night.

“are you out on an adventure?” she asks, eyes trained on their held hands.

“yes we are,” johnny answers, grin bright and cordial. “do you have a charm that can aid us?”

“none for you, _trickster_ ,” the old woman is curt, though her eyes are smiling. “but for this young man—”

her gaze turns to doyoung as she raises a rabbit charm from her collection, one that looks more like a stylish brooch than a superstitious charm.

“—a rabbit,” doyoung tries not to roll his eyes. “she will be of help.”

doyoung shakes his head, ready to wave off the sentiment. “sorry, i don’t really believe in—”

“we’ll take it,” johnny cuts in, hands over a twenty dollar bill. doyoung protests, eyes wide at the casual exchange, but the lady has already pinned the charm on his shirt’s front pocket.

“johnny—”

“it suits you,” johnny assures, his smile gentle underneath the moonlight. “keep it. my treat.”

“but _johnny_ —”

doyong turns to try his luck with the old lady, but the stall has disappeared without a trace.

“what—where—”

“come on!” johnny takes his hand, pulls him forward, and doyoung almost trips on over his feet. he checks his front pocket for the charm, gasps when he finds the brooch securely pinned.

“what just happened?” doyoung asks, out of breath. as far as he knows, stalls like those don’t disappear to thin air. “what—”

“i told you,” johnny sounds much too relaxed for the situation. “the city is—”

“—alive. i _know_.” doyoung cuts, pulling his hand away from johnny's hold, moving two steps back. "that _lady_ —she was there, and then she wasn't. how can you explain that?"

"mutable spaces," johnny's answer is simple, concise. he does not move from where he stands. "they move when they have done what they have to do. in our case—"

he points at the charm.

“—to give you that.”

doyoung stares at johnny, then at the charm, then back at his uncanny companion.

“ _what_ are you?” he asks, breathless, feeling incredibly unmoored.

“a _wanderer_ ,” johnny hums, his smile gentle, comforting. doyoung feels himself relax. “as you are.”

a low growl echoes in the sidestreets. johnny immediately has a hand on doyoung’s wrist.

“we need to move,” doyoung feels the tension behind johnny’s easy grin. “our adventure has yet to begin, _bunny_. we can’t let it end here.”

doyoung contemplates.

the growling grows louder.

“okay,” doyoung decides, takes johnny’s hand and locks their fingers. “but you have to—i don’t know—i don’t know if i can handle another—”

the words jumble in his brain, unable to find coherence.

the growling has ceased, but doyoung’s mind swims with a million unanswered queries.

“i’ll keep you safe,” johnny assures, his eyes soft underneath the dimly lit streetlights. "and if i'm unable to, that charm will do it for me."

doyoung is confused.

"from _what_?" he asks, brows furrowed. "safe from—"

"how are you with heights?"

doyoung almost gets whiplash from the sudden shift in their conversation.

they've stopped in front of a building, one of those residential apartments, and johnny's gaze is trained, up, up, and up.

"i'm cool with it," doyoung answers, albeit confused. "why do y—"

it happens too quickly.

johnny pulls him by his waist, his body flush against his rigid form. "hold tight."

"wh—"

the ground rumbles, and suddenly, the apartment is folded in half, enough so the rooftop's edge is within johnny's reach.

like _inception._

doyoung's arms latch around johnny’s neck, grabs on for dear life. "johnny?"

"i won't let you fall," johnny reassures, lands a kiss on his temple. "just hold tight."

doyoung shuts his eyes as johnny grabs the edge of the building.

he feels his legs lift in the air and the wind kiss his cheeks.

he takes one deep breath, gathers the courage to peek.

what he sees is breathtaking.

the city fades into a blur as the building rises to its full height. the city lights are colorful dots.

doyoung doesn't know how johnny did it, but they're suddenly standing on the rooftop.

or johnny is. he's still being carried. just a bit.

"how is it?"

doyoung knows nothing else but to answer johnny's question by cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. loudly.

"i don't know what you are," doyoung is breathless. "but i don't _care_ , because this is beautiful."

johnny grins before returning the kiss, and doyoung finally allows his feet to meet the concrete.

"i told you, i am a _wanderer_." johnny does not let go of his waist. "we both are, in this city."

doyoung kisses him again.

"you're so vague," johnny chuckles at the accusation. “i think i’m into it.”

this time, it's johnny who cups his cheek, eases him onto a longer liplock.

doyoung feels like he is flying.

maybe he _is._

"ready for the next one?" johnny speaks against his lips, and doyoung chases the warmth of those soft tiers. nods.

" _ready_."

 

🌃

 

"so you're from _julliard_?"

"mhm," doyoung nods, putting a sway to their held hands. he's quite surprised his latte has yet to turn watery, but he thinks he has johnny—whatever johnny is—to thank for it.

"what are you studying?"

"music," doyoung answers. "contemporary. i sing."

"oooh," normally, doyoung would find such a reaction offensive, but johnny's tone is filled with genuine awe and curiosity. "can i hear a bit of it?"

"maybe later," doyoung sips a bit more of his latte. "i just came from finals, you know. my throat’s still reeling from practicals.”

"i'll keep my ears out for it then"

it's a bit weird, being this comfortable with a stranger.

but there's something about johnny—his honey eyes, his dark hair that falls over his forehead, his tall frame and strong gait—that makes doyoung relax.

even if, until now, he still has no clue what he _is_.

"so what _are_ you?" doyoung tries his luck, shakes his cup to check its contents. half-full. "like..."

he makes vague hand gestures in an attempt to make a point.

"i told you, im a _wanderer_."

"i know, i _know_ ," doyoung whines, makes a show of sipping more of his drink. “but like, are you a human? an alien? some otherworldly being? _what?_ ”

“what do you want me to be?” johnny parries, flirts. doyoung makes a face at his smirk.

“ah, i know what you are,” doyoung sips his drink loudly. “you’re a _fuckboy_.”

johnny puts a hand to his heart, clutches his chest, and feigns full offense at the harsh accusation.

"you _wound_ me," he pouts, and doyoung almost rescinds his prior statement. "i'm not a fuckboy."

"sure," doyoung smirks, straw wedged between his lips. "you pick strangers up from bars to go on adventures."

" _good adventures_!" johnny retaliates. "besides, i don't do it as often as you think."

his gaze is loaded. doyoung feels himself blushing.

"only for the ones i find really _cute_ ," yup. he's blushing. "and really, really _interesting_."

doyoung kicks at his ankle.

"you mean my inability to pronounce cocktail names got to you?" he queries, tone lilting.

" _that,_ " johnny nods, gaze never leaving doyoung's. "and your voice. i could've guessed that you sing. i like listening to you talk."

doyoung has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling too much.

they walk a couple more blocks. weirdly, doyoung has yet to feel his legs getting worn from the walking.

"have you been here?" johnny asks, gesturing to the winding building before them. "at the vessel?"

"a couple of times," doyoung answes, lips jutted out. "there's always too many people, though."

"no people now," johnny's tone drips with mischief. "do you..?"

doyoung's eyes widen, his jaw going slack. "no, johnny—that’s—"

"boring? dated?"

" _trespassing_.”

johnny  grins at the accusation. doyoung thinks it makes him look like a cat.

"it's _not_ trespassing," johnny's already crossing over the chain barricades. "it's a public space."

"but—johnny—"

johnny shushes him, index finger to his own, perfectly bowed lips.

" _trust me_."

doyoung chews on his bottom lip, steels his nerves, and crosses the threshold with a light leap.

"atta boy," johnny cheers, before turning to the twisting building.

it's like before. the ground rumbles, the building folds until the edge is within johnny's reach. doyoung latches his arms around johnny's neck, and johnny pulls him by the waist, flush against his form.

"how do you do that?" doyoung asks, but johnny answers him with a wink, before letting the building unfold to its fullest height.

they land on the topmost floor.

" _wow_ ," doyoung exclaims, grin wide as his feet meet concrete. "it's hard to get tired of that."

"right?" johnny grins, leads their pair to the balcony's edge. "but it can still get much better."

"show me," doyoung challenges, arms now folded across his chest.

johnny smirks, confident.

he runs his fingers across the railing, gets a feel of the entire structure. he takes a deep breath, grabs at the railing, tight. his eyes glow with a bright blue.

within seconds, the building springs to life, the lights turning on in succession.

doyoung's jaw drops in awe.

" _wow_." he turns, for good measure, makes sure to take in the entire view, takes a mental snap. "this is—this is _breathtaking_ , johnny."

"isn't it?" johnny's grin is wide, like he's proud himself. frankly, doyoung's proud of him too.

"let's take a picture," doyoung suggests, putting his latte down to fetch his phone from his pocket. "i wanna remember this."

johnny nods, moves to pose.

_click._

doyoung takes three for good measure.

"wow," doyoung keeps his phone, retrieves his latte from the ground. sips. _still cold_. "i don't think you could top what you just did."

johnny looks at him, a challenge twinkling in his honey hues.

"try me."

doyoung blinks, and suddenly, johnny's stepping on the railing.

"what are you—"

johnny merely grins, standing with both of his feet on the metal railing. doyoung thinks he's insane.

"we're how many feet off the ground," doyoung nags, ready to pull the man back. "what are—"

"come on," johnny offers his open palm. "the city is alive."

as if on cue, a garbled waltz begins to play from one of the speakers.

"johnny—?”

"can i have this dance?" johnny's hand is still outstretched, open. doyoung looks over from the balcony, sees the tiny, tiny sculpture from down below.

doyoung contemplates. his gaze flits between johnny's hand, johnny's face, and the floor that looms below johnny.

it's dumb, really. he's known for being meticulous, careful, and straightlaced. but here he is, contemplating if he's about to risk his life in the hands of a stranger.

" _fuck_ it," doyoung curses, takes johnny's hand and prays.

he feels johnny pull him forward, feels his feet lift from the ground and up, but his shoes don't meet the metal of the railing. johnny has him caged into a hug. doyoung clutches against his shoulders. then he peeks.

doyoung almost faints at what he sees. instead, he pulls himself flush against johnny, as close as possible.

"what the fuck," he exclaims, breathless, in disbelief. he moves his feet, feels no resistance.

they are walking on air.

"johnny—"

"hush," johnny rubs his back. comforting. “i got you.”

doyoung's panic eases, and he relaxes— _melts—_ into johnny’s hold.

" _god_ , just what are you?"

johnny doesn't answer. instead, he rests his lips atop doyoung's head, twirls and sways their pair in time with the garbled waltz.

doyoung nuzzles against his chest.

 

🍸

 

new york is a city.

in the city, there are _gods._

legend has it.

( _them_.)

a god with a hand on a towel, carefully wiping glasses after a long day of serving guests.

"all of _this_ ," taeil mutters. he raises the glass against the light. "for a mortal boy?"

"you know how _he_ is."

a single patron sits by the end of the long bar, fingers cradling a glass of sweet mead.

he, too, is a god.

"you have your work cut out for you," taeil asks, moving to another glass. "huh, _taeyong_?"

"mhm," taeyong hums. "jungwoo will have fun with him"

taeil makes himself a martini. the olive swims in the bottom of the stemmed cup.

"send me a video clip."

"of course," taeyong's eyes are upturned crescents of sinister glee. "i'll have them e-mail you."

 

🌆

 

"that was _magical_ ,"

doyoung's tone is dazed. he's leaning heavily against johnny's shoulder, knees still weak from the impromptu waltz.

"you're adorable," johnny quips, pinching doyoung's nose. "i'm glad you enjoyed it, bunny."

doyoung scrunches his nose. nuzzles forth.

"i should think twice about challenging you,” doyoung whines, a small pout on his lips. "but--"

doyoung halts his speech, eyes growing wide at the sight before him.

"johnny—”

he turns to his companion and sees, for the first time, his expression turn grave.

"what are _those_?"

there's a low growl, much louder than the ones he's heard before.

there should be about twenty of them. _shadows_. dark, smoky, with no sure shape or form.

doyoung clutches tighter against johnny, who has a protective arm around his shoulder.

"johnny—?"

"we're going to _run_."

 

* * *

 

new york is a city.

a city, doyoung discovers, has a lot more twists and turns than he can ever imagine.

or it's just johnny.

the growling turns a bit more silent, but doyoung knows he's far from safe.

"what were _those_?" he asks, again, hand tight on johnny's own.

" _hunters_ ," johnny answers, straightforward. it hits doyoung as a surprise, hints towards the gravity of their entire situation.

talk about an adventure.

"and they're hunting..?"

" _me_ ," the answer comes with an easy grin. "no need to worry."

doyoung wants to kick his beautiful ass.

"what do you _mean_ no need to worry?" doyoung thanks his parents for putting him on track and field when he was in eighth grade. "a bunch of weird, growling shadows are hunting you. wh—"

a shadowy tentacle bursts through the alleyway, blocking their path.

"god, they're _fast_ ," johnny quips, skids to an abrupt halt. doyoung almost trips forward, but johnny steadies him with a strong arm.

the building beside them folds in half. johnny grabs the edge tight, pulls doyoung closer.

"hang on," he motions. imperative.

they move their chase upwards, towards the close-knit rooftops of the urban landscape. johnny half-carries, half-pulls doyoung to keep up with his speed, the hunters growling low and hot on their heels.

"what do they want?" doyoung asks, frantic. "do we fight them?"

johnny snorts at _we._

" _i_ could," johnny motions, almost too casual for the scene. "but your safety is my priority, so we run."

doyoung purses his lips and furrows his brow, dissatisfied.

"i can handle myself," he mutters, under his breath. "you d—”

a shadow rises at the end of the building, mimicking a tidal wave.

johnny is quick to shift  on his heels, leaps towards another rooftop. doyoung clings tighter.

"they're after me," johnny explains, dodging oncoming attacks with expert ease. "no need to get involved, bunny."

doyoung pouts.

"just wanted to help," he mutters, careful not to trip with the speed. johnny snorts, ruffles his hair.

"you're not supposed to," johnny motions. "but i appreciate the sentiment, nonetheless."

he sweeps doyoung off of his feet, leaps a couple stories down.

the growling doesn't stop.

instead, it grows louder _, louder._

"we need to get higher," johnny states, looking forward.

before them, the empire state building towers in all its glory. doyoung looks up at johnny, nods his suggestion, his approval.

"just a bit more, bunny."

the empire state building looms in ther vision, tall and authoritative.

the shadows tail their pair. one tries to swipe at doyoung’s sneaker.

johnny sprints, and doyoung shuts his eyes, braces against his form.

johnny, for once, uses the door.

no folding buildings this time?" doyoung banters, mostly to ease his nerves as he finds his bearings.

"too much," johnny replies, the lights turning on with each step he takes. "i can only bend reality so far. might make him angrier."

"him?"

" _yongie_."

"huh."

they walk towards the elevator. johnny presses the up button.

they wait.

"i thought you were _friends_?" doyoung inquires, taps his foot against the marble tile.

"we _are_ ," johnny's smile is sincere. "remember what i said about not giving him too much work?"

"mhm?"

the elevator dings open.

"that was a _lie_."

doyoung's eyes widen, but he's pulled into the elevator before he could even say anything else.

a shadow seeps into the empire state's double door entrance.

the elevator shuts, travels upwards.

"come closer," johnny commands, gives doyoung no choice in the matter with an arm around his waist. "hold on tight."

doyoung latches his arms around johnny's neck, braces tighter.

the elevator gains speed.

the pair press against the wall.

"this isn't safe!" doyoung yells above the groaning gears.

"nothing is," johnny grins, perhaps as reassurance. "nothing _was_. but i'm here, and you're safe with me."

the elevator halts with a screech.

the viewing deck is eerie, devoid of any sign of living.

doyoung hears no growling, sees no shadowy tendrils.

"is it over?"

johnny's eyes are hard, trained against the elevator's doors.

"not yet. higher."

" _higher_?!" doyoung screams, half in disbelief, half in exasperation. "what do you mean hi—"

johnny gives him no space to protest, sweeps him off his feet.

"johnny?!"

from the viewing deck, johnny leaps upwards, brings their pair to the higher peak. doyoung tries to assess structural integrity, but his thoughts roam to monster movies that do nothing to ease his nerves.

"god, johnny, isn't this high e—"

growling.

loud.

clear.

_angry._

the shadows pool below the deck, morphing into humanoid forms that ascend toward their pair.

"fuck," johnny curses, under his breath, and doyoung clings tighter, unsure of how to be of help.

"johnny, what are we—"

the shadows climb higher, seething, clawing their way up.

"johnny, i swear i—"

"i need you to trust me."

doyoung's brows furrow, confused.

"what are y—"

"i need you to trust me, doyoung," johnny pleads, and the mere urgency of his tone forces doyoung to agree.

"okay, _okay_!" doyoung yells. "i trust you. what are y—?"

johnny silences him with a soft, lingering kiss, and doyoung feels nothing but pure, strong belief.

"don't look down," johnny commands, almost a whisper.

"wh—"

doyoung barely recovers from his daze to feel johnny push him off to the abyss below.

he should scream.

really, he should.

but he sees johnny, the shadows crawling over his entire height, almost devouring. yet his gaze remains on him, serene, honey-filled eyes filled with pure reassurance.

doyoung feels no fear.

he closes his eyes. feels the wind caress his cheeks.

new york is a city.

in the city, doyoung falls.

 

🐰

 

he floats, cruises.

the fur of the rabbit is soft.

the night sky is cold.

but he is warm.

doyoung slips into slumber.

 

🏙

 

new york is a city.

doyoung wakes to the honking of cabs, to people yelling on the streets. the morning rush.

he feels a throbbing on his head, persistent. like a hangover.

has he been drinking?

it was finals week.

and then—

doyoung startles awake.

“what—”

he fell asleep in front of his laptop, in clothes he remembers going out in. but where did he go?

doyoung thinks, hard.

finals week. julliard

( _new york is a city_.)

the city.

( _the city is alive_.)

suddenly, he _remembers._

the bar. the cocktail he can barely pronounce. the halogen lights, the twisting stools by the high table.

_johnny._

he remembers johnny.

honey eyes, jet-black hair, the boy-next-door ensemble.

doyoung clutches his head. sits.

he remembers the buildings, flying through the night sky, the colors of the city fading into mosaic.

the shadows.

the chase.

the adrenaline.

the elevator at the empire state building, the highest peak.

( _higher_.)

doyoung gasps, checks his body, for his heartbeat, his pulse.

breathe in.

_blip._

breathe out.

_blip._

he's alive, or at least he thinks he is, but he pinches himself for good measure. yelps.

_definitely alive._

but he remembers--the cold night air, the sensation of falling.

doyoung collects himself, thinks back to everything that happened.

was it a dream? it can't be. the memories are too vivid.

but—

to his left, a used starbucks cup, with remnants of a mocha latte. the name is smudged, but doyoung makes out an 's.'

"s—" his brows furrow, but he decides to decipher later.

to his right, a half-filled cocktail glass. doyoung sniffs the contents, makes a face. _sazerac_.

doyoung breathes in. steady.

on his chest, secured by a golden pin, is a bunny charm, expertly handcrafted.

inhale, exhale.

on his laptop, an article he does not remember opening: a briefer on east asian gods, the page scrolled down to one.

_seokga._

the _trickster._

doyoung runs out of his apartment, carries the cocktail glass with him.

 

🥃

 

"he's not here," the bartender says, barely looking up from the glass he's wiping. "not for a _while_."

doyoung checks his nametag, sees ' _munshin_ ' before it shifts into _'taeil._ '

"i—" doyoung stumbles into legend, finds a seat on the far left. "i need a drink."

"it's ten in the morning, dear one" taeil croons, lips curling up into a cheeky line, but hands him a menu nonetheless. "but what would you like?"

doyoung looks through the list, finds the most familiar one.

"a saze—"

he waits for a correction.

it does not come.

" _that._ that one."

taeil serves him the drink in the glass he came in with. clean.

on the other end of the bar, a white-haired man cradles a sweating glass of sweet mead.

he sips, smiles at the taste.

"in the next moon, my dear," doyoung hears him speak. "you _may_ find what you seek."

“pardon?”

doyoung isn't sure if he's the one being addressed, but he's the only one in the bar at the moment, and he assumes this man is not just talking to himself.

but the white-haired man simply flashes him a coy smile.

"or he might find you."

 

🌉

 

new york is a city.

the city is alive.

doyoung lives in the city, spends some of his freer weekends in a bar called legend.

he orders the same thing, enough that he knows how to say it.

"one sazerac, please."

taeil nods, almost goes to prepare, but another order comes in.

"make that _two_ , thanks."

doyoung turns, wide-eyed.

johnny stands behind him, takes the stool beside him, and grins.

"hello, bu—oof!”

doyoung interrupts, tackles him in a tight hug, unabashed about the eyes that were on them.

"careful, bunny—" johnny winces, peels doyoung off of him, settles for holding his hands instead. doyoung’s whines, just a little. "jungwoo doesn't go easy—"

he lilts his head to the side, addresses the white-haired man on the far end of the long bar.

"or should i say _, yongie_ told him not to go easy."

'yongie' raises a middle finger at johnny as he sips his mead.

johnny smirks, cat-like.

"i have no idea who or what you're talking about," doyoung states, breathless. johnny’s here, alive. _real._  "but you're here—you’re—"

johnny cuts him with a gentle kiss. doyoung, surprisingly, finds no reason to protest.

"ready for another adventure?"

johnny speaks against his lips, sweet, soft. doyoung chases the warmth of those bowed tiers.

"sure," doyoung states, a bit dazed. "but you have to promise to tell me more about yourself—"

doyoung moves back, matches johnny's gaze. his voice drops to a whisper.

" _seokga_."

johnny smirks, shakes his head, squeezes his hands.

"of _course_ , bunny." he traps doyoung's nose between two fingers, pinches. doyoung makes a face, but he doesn’t mind. "but only if you promise never to call me that again."

doyoung snickers. steals a peck.

" _deal_."

 

🌃

 

new york is a city.

in the city, there are gods.

doyoung, by some weird stroke of fate, is loved by a tricky one.

**Author's Note:**

> i just saw those pictures johndo posted and went "hey, what if i write an urban fantasy au out of this?"
> 
> the inspiration is nick and norah's infinite playlist meets american gods meets sandman's living cities. 
> 
> i would like to thank kim, my baby on a chair, who helped me sort everyone into their respective deities.
> 
> we may publish an artbook with a lot of extra content as a summer project, so please stay tuned for that!
> 
> for the orginal thread, click [ here: ](https://twitter.com/seojyans/status/1119750194113814528)


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